"
Mark Brownson was dying, slowly, but surely, so the physician told his
wife, and advised that if he had any business to settle, it should not
be delayed.
"He is sinking, and even now I see his mind is, at times, a little
clouded. However, I suppose there is nothing of importance that he
should consider," said the doctor.
"He has made no will," said Mrs. Brownson,
"Is that necessary? I did not know--"
"I think it is very necessary, doctor, for his children's welfare. Not
that I think it at all likely there can be any contest about what Mr.
Brownson has. Yet to provide against any future troubles, it would be
prudent, I think."
The good doctor assented, but looked much surprised.
And well he might. No one imagined old Mark Brownson had anything to
will. But he was a very eccentric man; and the economical style of his
establishment was likely one of his notions.
"Are you suffering much pain now, Mark?" asked Mrs. Brownson, a few
moments after, when she was seated at her husband's bedside.
"Yes, yes; give me my composing draught--the opium--anything to
relieve me," answered the suffering man.
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